Love You, Hate You, Want You
by Blondie47
Summary: Lynne is not a witch and yet somehow Imogen fell under her spell and is smitten with her. Constance, on the other hand, is a witch and can't seem to understand why the only spell she cannot cast is the spell of love. FEMSLASH - HB/Drill/Lamplighter.


**Chapter 1: Who's That Girl?**

For Imogen, Lynne Lamplighter was like a much needed ray of light that shone upon her existence at Cackle's - just like the artist's name said.

The PE teacher always felt lonely, being the only non-witch among the magical women at the Academy but it was only when the artist showed up that she realized just how lonely she truly felt. Something inside her was set on fire by the spark in Lynne's soft, caring eyes. She mesmerized her. She mesmerized her when she watched her work with the girls, passionately explaining what art was all about, when observing the paintings, deep in thought or when she presented her painting to them in the Great Hall, after discovering they were a witch academy.

"I am not a witch," were the first words she managed to say when they came back from the Great Hall to the Staffroom. In the corner of her eye she saw Constance phew and roll her eyes.

"I am glad, it's nice to have an ally," Lamplighter smiled and the blonde could swear she saw her wink. Amelia came to take Lynne to the side to discuss the matters of a possible employment and the deputy headmistress came to stand next to the blonde, following her gaze.

"You seem quite…_captured_ by Miss Lamplighter, it seems," Constance remarked dryly, tearing Imogen from her thoughts. She blushed. Was it that visible?

"That's nonsense. I am simply looking forward to working with someone like me. A non-witch, you know."

"Is that so?" the witch raised her eyebrows and held her chin higher as she always did when displeased.

"Yes. Why else?"

Constance didn't say anything - she just stared at the artist standing nearby, talking to Miss Cackle and then turned back to Imogen. She sighed, obviously annoyed by what was going on.

"This Academy keeps lowering its standards everyday. Sometimes I fear for Amelia's mental health, hiring non-witches at a witch school," she said in a voice of a martyr.

Irritated, Imogen growled: "I am standing right here."

"Precisely my point."

It was certainly not easy not to be a witch in the company of Miss Constance Hardbroom.

/

Imogen, much to her dismay, couldn't stay in the Staff Room to find out whether Miss Lamplighter – well, _Lynne_ – accepted the offered position of an art teacher. She had promised Maya Firedrop, a second year, to go running with her that evening and she couldn't break that promise to the only pupil in five years who was talented in sports and cared to run in her free time. It was not allowed for the students to go to the woods alone and so Imogen suggested accompanying the young girl. However, at that moment, she would rather stay.

"Leaving already, Miss Drill?" Constance grinned, knowing just how much Imogen wanted to stay.

"Yes. I've got places to be, people to see…there is no time for mopping around for_ me_," she had to bite back, emphasizing what a waste of time it was for the witch to spy on Amelia and Lynne (she decided it would be alright to call her Lynne, at least not out loud).

"Are you suggesting I don't have better things to do than be here?" Constance huffed.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the table, Imogen caught Lynne's eye and the carefree brunette gave her the loveliest smile she'd ever seen. In her amazement, she even forgot to react and smile back. Constance, aware of how the new non-witch was able to stop Imogen in tracks with a simple smile, crossed her arms, upset for being ignored.

"I would appreciate if you actually paid attention when I am asking you a question!" she demanded, maybe a little too passionately. The witch couldn't help it - the way Imogen was smitten with Lamplighter irritated her to no end. Who did this artist think she was?

The physical education teacher just passed Constance without a word, leaving the room. Fresh air was much needed to cool down her inappropriate, burning thoughts about the new possible addition to the staff. The deputy mistress soon moved to the window and gazed out, seeing Imogen greeting Maya Firedrop and running with her towards the woods, chatting about something. For a moment she admired the younger teacher's toned legs and a firm bottom in those ridiculously short shorts but soon enough she turned her attention back to Lynne Lamplighter and Amelia. She knew exactly why she did not welcome the sweet, strange artist with open arms. It was for the same reason why she did not ever hand her homework to other classmates back at the witch's academy or why her father had to _force _her to borrow her doll to that bratty blonde from Aerquette Family that came to visit every summer.

Constance Hardbroom never shared and she would certainly not share Imogen's attention with anyone, no matter how well-known they were.

/

Maya was a sweet girl, Imogen observed, and she seemed mature enough for her age. While her fourteen years old classmates were only interested in boys and had their first crushes, Maya had her eyes set on the upcoming cross county against the Pentangles Academy and wanted to run as much as her schedule allowed her to. They did not talk much while running, save for the occasional direction comments, but they chatted a little when they stopped to drink.

"Water always tastes the best after a good run," Maya said, cheeks flushed and her lips and chin wet from drinking too fast. She wiped it off with her sleeve.

"That's very true. All your senses seem to pick everything up more intensively after a work out, don't they?" Imogen took a sip from her own bottle, the memory of Lynne's smile sending chills down her spine. She briefly wondered whether she accepted the job offer or not. Not knowing was killing her.

"Smell included!" Maya grinned, sniffing close to her armpit and wincing her nose. Her tomboyish behavior reminded Imogen of a younger self and somehow connected to the girl on a whole new level. Of course, Imogen looked very different from the enthusiastic pupil. Maya had long and curly ginger hair that made her head look big and when she tied it into a pony tail, it always made her head hurt from the pulling. Her jaw was stronger than Imogen's and her teenage body already had curves that Imogen never fully developed, not even after twenty six years. When she was Maya's age, she was flat and bony, with long and silky blonde hair. She was a shy child, unlike the pupil in front of her, whose passion for the sport was clearly visible in her extrovert behavior.

She gave the young girl a small smile and stretched her arms.

"Miss Drill, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Maya. Considering you are my only hope at this school to win Cross Country this year, I assure you that I will answer anything you ask," the gym mistress said, encouraging the student.

The redhead did not bother with politeness as she blurred out: "Have you ever wanted to be a boy?"

"Pardon me?" Imogen gasped, taken aback by such a personal question. Of course, she was on good terms with Maya but she didn't think the girl would have such courage to ask something so personal and, coming from a pupil, inappropriate. Maya leaned against the cortex of an old oak and folded her arms.

"I mean, you love sports and have short hair and seem to hate dresses and everything…like, I wondered that maybe you felt the same as I do," she said without looking at the teacher. Imogen, sensing it to be something more important that a random question, thought about how to react. She knew how devastating it could be if she said something wrong, something that could psychologically upset the honest girl.

"Well, I would be lying to say that the thought never crossed my mind," she began, carefully choosing every word. "But I feel comfortable being me, like this. I am a naturally sporty person and the short hair is just something that makes my activities easier. Long hair always gets everywhere."

The girl exclaimed, pulling on her long red locks: "Tell me about it! It's always in the way and it's impossible to swim with such hair. Yet my mother refused to let me cut it! And these," she pointed at her chest, "just keep bouncing and hurting when I run without a proper support! It's _terrible_!"

The outrage in those brown eyes was almost burning, reminding Imogen of how fitting surnames could be. Lamplighter, Firedrop, Hardbroom.

"One day you'll be thankful for those, trust me," Imogen smiled. "I think we should return to the castle now and talk later, alright? It's getting dark out here and I don't know how about you, but I don't fancy being captured by wicked witches!"

"As if they could ever catch us!" Maya grinned and in a few moments she was running in the direction of the castle with a slightly confused gym mistress following her and wondering what the greater meaning of what just happened was.

She also wondered about how sexy those blue pants looked on Lynne that day.

/

Constance heard her colleague enter the castle and she swiftly came down the stairs to see her. She waited for a moment so Imogen could part with Maya Firedrop and then stepped out of the shadows.

"Do you think it is appropriate to take young girls to the dark woods at night? There could be another rumor about that, you know what the girls say about you already," the witch commented with a raised eyebrow.

Imogen rolled her eyes: "At least they believe there _are _people who are willingto sleep with me. It could be worse," she said, referring to the ageless rumor that Constance is an old maiden. Because, all the girls thought, how could anyone ever bed with the terrible potions teacher? Imogen didn't necessarily share that opinion, finding Constance rather attractive but that didn't stop her from mentioning it to her mean colleague.

After their usual sarcastic foreplay of words, they settled into a more meaningful, yet not less offensive conversation. Not one of them would ever admit it but they liked the way they talked. The seemingly rude behavior had always brought a familiar feeling of intimacy between them.

"Are my inappropriate after-lights actions all that concern you?" the blonde locked the castle doors and hung the key on the wall. She started walking to her room and Constance joined her, walking by her side with her hands clasped together close to her rib cage.

"I actually came to inform you that your sweetheart artist decided to give teaching a chance. She promised Miss Cackle to start teaching on Monday and decide whether to take the offered position permanently after a month."

"Really? So she's staying?" Imogen's eyes lit up, all the energy inside her bubbling with thought that she would be seeing Lynne every day for at least a month.

"Your deducting skills never cease to amaze me."

Imogen ignored the remark, too happy to say something witty back. "How are art classes going to be added to the girls' schedule, though?"

"Oh yes, that is another matter they discussed. You and Lavinia will both drop one class per week allowing Lamplighter to teach two art classes to each year," the tall witch waved her hand in the air to show how little she thought of the new addition to the subjects list.

Imogen frowned: "Why are we dropping classes and you are not? The girls have far more potion classes than physical education and charms all together."

They stopped at Imogen's room, the witch enjoying the sight of the hot, blushed woman whose clothes stuck to her body with sweat. The way the blue tank top hugged Imogen's breasts was eye catching for the witch and she had to be careful not to stare.

"Because I was present when Miss Cackle was deciding what classes to drop in order to make room for Lamplighter's classes. I am afraid you weren't there because – as you put it earlier – you had places to be and people to see."

It wasn't such good news for Imogen to have her classes cut but she decided that it was worth seeing Lynne around. With a sigh, she opened the doors to her room and stopped with her hand on the handle.

"Thank you for telling me," she smiled at the witch and wished her good night. No matter what was said, she wasn't angry with the potions mistress and was too tired to start an argument.

"You're welcome," Constance politely nodded and then, a few steps away from the still open doors she shouted: "And don't forget to take a shower before you throw yourself around her neck, you smell like a man!"

Imogen smiled at this statement, ignorant to the bitterness the witch spoke it with.

* * *

_AN: I am not really sure if I should continue this story but I might if I feel like it (reviews do help, of course!). I am well aware I still need to finish up I Feel Everything but to be honest, I am scared! I love the story so much it brings tears to my eyes to end it! This one, however, might turn into a new epic, who knows. I wanted to show the sarcastic interaction between Imogen and Constance and the tension between them that they always try to ignore. And you know how Constance is - she wouldn't admit to fancy someone unless someone else is trying to snatch them from her, he he. Hope you like the story. And Happy New Year, of course. _

_The chapter is named after Who Is That Girl by Hillary Duff. Cuz the lyrics fit the story._


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